It starts to rise like tear drops Slow and sweat and stinging my flesh Like acid pressed Against my chest And twisted Turning to invent The pathway to my sorrows Yet I cannot feel The flesh that peels From tortured bones And flayed hormones That Break me Shake me Set me into flames Ignited by my shame A game We name The ruler of the duel These are the rules The maker of A game So cruel That even sons And sisters Die with Shame And pain And screams Of lost And tossed Forgotten dreams Ripped from Birth These bitches Of the whores we’ve Known as Unattoned Relinquished distractions Mediated fractions Of a mind That neither you nor I Have ever really Owned But dance and pranced And stood our stance On ground So moist and Loose that even He would slip beneath An open lip Devoured by the Father Of all Time